


Scenes From a Fic I'm Not Writing

by Northisnotup



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Benzaiten Steel Lives, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Collection, Dreams vs. Reality, Dreamscapes, Dreamsharing, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Other, Pain, Soulmates, Time Travel, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Nureyev, Unbeta'd, no betas we die like men, scenes from a fic i'm not writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25964137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northisnotup/pseuds/Northisnotup
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. This is a collection of chat fics, fic ideas, twit fics and ficlets that may never become anything more but that I keep thinking about.
Relationships: Benzaiten Steel & Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 44
Kudos: 119





	1. Time Travel

Benzaiten Steel isn’t used to being followed. 

That’s Juno’s schtick. 

Benzaiten is the Good twin, the one who keeps his grades up, keeps out of trouble, keeps his nose clean. Ben is the distraction when Juno needs to disappear, the alibi when he needs one, the one with the Galaxy’s Best Smile.

Ugh. _Barf._

All of that is to say that Ben isn’t used to being the one looked at suspiciously let alone followed by someone with eyes that spell trouble. But Benten has lived in Oldtown long enough, and been Juno’s twin longer than that. He hums under his breath, twisting and turning down the familiar dusty streets until he is right where he wants to be, Juno’s old vibroblade in hand and facing his tail. 

“Hi,” he says brightly, “why’re you following me?" 

The man is tall, taller than Benten will probably ever be, slim, but not like - addict thin. More like some of the runners get when they’ve been with a gang long enough, thin as hell but with strength enough to bend solid metal. His skin is a pale gold that near glows in the sepia tones of Mars midday, with sharp eyes, sharp cheekbones, sharp chin and a lost look on his face that immediately gets Ben’s back up. 

Confusion can be the most dangerous emotion of all. People are afraid of what they don’t immediately recognize or understand, and lash out in feeble hope of defending themselves. 

At least, sh- ...they always do in Benten’s experience.

"Juno? Juno Steel?” The voice is…higher than he expected, and accented in a way Ben’s never heard before, light and almost musical. Those lost looking eyes dart this way and that over Ben’s face, drinking in his features.

Ben huffs, wishing he could be surprised. Juno leaves broken hearts wherever he goes and the worst part is - it’s not even on purpose.

“Wrong twin, sorry,” Benten doesn't let go of the vibroblade, an instinct that serves him well when the man visibly startles before narrowing his eyes and peering even closer, if possible. “How about I pass along your name next time he’s in town?" 

He has no plans to pass along the man’s name, which is apparently obvious as the man chuckles mirthlessly, continuing to look him up and down.

"Well, you must be - but of course you can’t be, can you?” The man muses, calm as can be, and it’s at this point that Ben’s deep well of patience begins to drain. 

Whoever this man is, he isn’t even the slightest bit trustworthy and Juno can make whatever choices he wants, but Benten doesn't have to support them. Sure, the whole beautiful and sharp enough to cut you thing may be Juno’s type all over, but Juno's got terrible taste and this guy is too weird and too old and too... Anyway, he's not getting anywhere near Juno if Ben has any say, so he can get over his broken heart in sad, lonely silence just like everyone else Juno mesmerizes.

“Excuse me, I’ve been travelling and you know how calendars can get between planets, would you mind terribly telling me what day it is?”

“Would you mind terribly telling me who you are and what you want with my brother?” Benten throws back, mimicking the arch way of talking and hanging on to his cheery tone by his fingernails.

The man starts to say…something and thinks better of it, expression wavering.

“My name is Peter Nureyev."


	2. Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is the background/inciting action to this? Idk!

The Juno in front of him in rare form, tongue-in-cheek and snarking, refuting his twin’s every cautious, grim take on soulmates with vicious glee. 

“Don’t be fooled,” Benzaiten warns Rex, or perhaps the world at large. “Juno doesn’t believe in soulmates any more than I do, he just likes pissing me off.”

“Oh come on, Benten. This is fun, you’re never the cranky one. Just say you believe in fairies and we’ll put this all behind us,” Juno croons mockingly.

“You more than anyone-” Ben starts to say, and slaps a hand over his mouth to cut himself off looking horrified. Juno stands so quickly his chair falls with a bang, all sly smiles and twinkling eyes gone, wiped away by the deep seated rage now written across his handsome features.

“Well! Why wouldn’t Juno believe in soulmates? They’re a well documented phenomenon throughout history!” Rex Glass enthuses, attempting to smooth things over, while behind the mask, Peter Nureyev knows very well why Juno Steel would be wary of soulmates.

“Yeah, Benten, why wouldn’t I?” Juno asks, and Peter in Rex’s skin shivers at the sweet, baiting menace that coats his words so thickly they nearly drip.

“Juno,” Ben says, soft and apologetic.

“Whatever.”

He slams the door behind him. 

“Juno’s soulmate isn’t on the registries, is the thing,” Ben says, half explanation, half as though he just has to get it off his chest somehow. Needs to unload this terrible secret on someone, and who better than a stranger with no personal connection who he will never see again? Someone who is just as likely to forget this as soon as he hears it. 

It wouldn’t be a bad plan.

If not for the obvious.

“There could be many reasons for that,” Rex Glass says a touch awkwardly, trying to comfort a stranger while not getting overly involved in their messy affairs.

“No, I mean like, Juno’s a private eye. He’s looked beyond the registry. It shouldn’t be hard. We know roughly when the name appeared, and it’s not like it’s difficult to get census data, so it should just be a matter of matching the name, right? Planet, by moon, by asteroid. Tedious, yeah, but not impossible.” Benzaiten’s words babble out in a steady stream and carry Peter Nureyev along like a current. He couldn’t fight it if he tried.

Juno looked for him.

“But it’s like Juno’s soulmate never existed at all. There are no records, anywhere. Not even doubles with the same name who couldn’t be his soulmate. It’s,” he sighs, grabbing his coat and turning to go after Juno, “It’s freaky.”

Yes. Nureyev imagines it must be.

To have your soul bound to a ghost.


	3. To the Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That one soulmate au where you feel the pain your soulmate goes through 😔
> 
> But make it jupeter 😔

When Nureyev thought about it at all, he tended to think his soulmate was either very unlucky or very heartless.

Meeting Juno Steel doesn't prove those thoughts wrong.

When he was younger, his naive self with his big heart still whole in his chest would often wax poetic - how clumsy his soulmate was! Peter's elbows and knees near constantly burning with the echo of being scraped raw. 

He learned to live with the sting and hiss of new cuts and bruises. 

It was well after Mag found him, after his training began that the truth set in.

Some wounds got larger, and came more frequently. Peter iced his hands constantly then, to keep the sympathetic swelling in his knuckles down. 

There was a part of him that wondered what kind of a person would put their soulmate through this. There was a part of him that wondered if they knew he existed at all. And there was a large part of him that ached to take care of his soulmate, care for the real wound and not the echo. 

(Oh the words that bubbled angrily in Nureyev's mind everytime he felt the itch of damage untreated, the pull of scabs that turned into scars or the feverish warmth from a hurt he couldn't see. In his twenties, he needed to take two whole months off to treat his mind and hands for the implication of nerve damage from his soulmate. At the time he viewed the time off they must have needed from his top surgery to be karmic justice. Later, he had just hoped the feeling of the drains hadn't bothered them as much as they bugged him.)

Those thoughts never stayed. He refused to let them, because the odds were, Peter Nureyev would never meet his soulmate. 

Or if he did, there was every chance he wouldn't be Peter Nureyev at all.

So he folded all the tiny hurts, all the stinging pain and hopeless care away and did not dwell on the type of person who would fit him so well they could feel his agonies as their own.

Not for years.

Not until he stepped into a bland, badly lit office catching the eye of a lady half out the window and felt his hardened, jaded heart skip a beat in recognition.

Nureyev knew, instantly, immediately, intimately that scar across the wide bridge of a nose thrice broken. He knew the cut that split the right eyebrow into rougish halves. He knew the hands that were steady but felt less then they should and he felt like he knew those sharp blue eyes...


	4. The Stab Diamond Fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's rough folks. Tags have been updated even though the rating has stayed the same. Implications of: drinking, drug use, abusive relationships, self harm and suicidal ideation. Read with discretion, stay safe <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a whole fic for this, a backstory for Juno, a heist with Nureyev's white-knight impluses getting the better of him. But I'm just not interested in the arc anymore. If I were to re-write this, it would be about Juno breaking the cycles of abuse that kept him falling in with Diamond over and over again, but that's a story about Juno's past - and I'm more interested in Juno's future. I do have the backstory written out from Rita's pov, and as always if anyone is interested in riffing on this, you can do so with my complete permission, just be sure to give me a nod or @ me on one of my socials
> 
> So no one misses it: **CONTENT WARNINGS** for this chapter include:  
> Abusive relationships  
> Drug use mentions  
> Canon typical alcoholism  
> Addiction

Rita is not the quietest nor is she the most subtle of people. 

Buddy knows this to be a gross understatement, but it’s also kinder than saying that Rita is like a minotaur in a china shop. Rita’s job runs concurrently with Buddy’s when it comes to the planning and execution of any mission. So when she gasps, loudly, in the middle of their family meeting, Buddy takes no offense.

“Yes, Rita?”

“Oh, I’m real sorry Miss Captain Buddy ma’am, it’s just,” she tears her eyes away from her com, and now that the screen is no longer reflecting off her glasses, Buddy can see just watery and red those deep brown eyes have become. Something she’s found has rattled Miss Rita’s cage quite thoroughly, and if Buddy remembers correctly... “Mistah Steel can’t go on this mission no more so we’re gonna have to work somethin’ else out.”

If Buddy were the type of woman to sputter, she would have done so at the frank declaration. Since she is not, she settles for fluttering her lashes in faint surprise. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence Rita, what the hell?” Juno speaks up near instantly, and Buddy would normally think this indignance a reaction to being benched. If the sideline had come from her, it would have been. But he trusts Rita, and past the bluster, is willing to wait for her to explain herself. 

Sure enough, it’s not Buddy she turns to with an explanation, but Juno. Two peas in a pod. “Mistah Steel, you remember how you asked me to never treat you like someone with a problem, on account of how it’d be real hurtful?” 

“Uh, yeah?” Juno crosses his arms over his chest, his eye quickly darting across the table before settling on the table itself.

“Except for this one specific instance where I should treat you like someone with just the worst type o’problem who absolutely cannot be trusted?”

She can see the realization of whatever Rita is implying hit him and for a second, his expression wavers and Buddy worries he is going to break. Juno’s skin goes ashen, and he sucks in a breath, sinking into himself to make him look smaller. Less of a target. “Oh.”

When she met Juno Steel, he had just about hit rock bottom. According to Jet, he was picked up wandering the desert, waiting to die. Jet had little interest or belief that Juno would pick himself up, but Buddy’s had an eye for talent her whole life. She knew a fighter when she saw one, and Juno is by any and all definitions, a fighter.

“Buddy,” Juno rasps, “I can’t go on this mission. I - I’m sorry.” 

Rita turns those big, begging eyes back to her, and poor Juno’s spine is going to fold in on itself if he keeps to this rate. “Well, darlings you know I’ve always said there is no such thing as a perfect crime. And better now to get these little kinks worked out then later.”

“I’m sorry,” Juno croaks again, and Buddy would be more annoyed if it looked at all like he was saying it to her, here and now, rather than to some phantom in his past. 

“Juno,” Buddy makes her voice crack like a whip, and while he flinches from it, lips curling into a snarl and eye focusing on her like a laserlight, he _is_ focusing on her. “I care not one whit why you cannot physically commit to this mission, though make no mistake my dear, I am going to need to know. While we have a goal, the path to reach that goal is ever changing and I will not, nor will I ever hesitate to change it should I need to. My people, that’s you, Juno, are very much more important to me than any goal I will ever have. Now, I beg you, go clean yourself up, you look just ghastly; and prepare yourself, for our talk is going to be sooner than later.”

“Bud-”

“Shoo.”

He stands up shakily, and gives a flickering half smile to Ransom, who offers a gentlemanly hand to steady him. “Rita, you can, uh, give them all the information they need, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

As soon as Juno is out of eyesight all eyes swing to her and Buddy cuts any and all talk with one authoritative finger in the air.

She counts thirty seconds, then a minute, before the soft mechanical sound of Juno’s door shuts and she waves to open the floor. 

Vespa, bless her, is of course first. “I don’t like this, Bud.”

“Neither do I, my Vespa, but I do believe we must first understand what _this_ is.”

“The implications are...unsettling,” Ransom says, and she wonders if he noticed when his knife came out of its sheath. 

“Which implications are those?” Jet’s reasonable tone cuts in, “The implications that Juno has ties to the Stellar mafia which we did not anticipate or the implications that he was in an abusive relationship? Neither are ideal.” 

Buddy watches a divine fury pass over Ransom’s lovely face, almost too quickly for her, but neither of her eyes are old enough to fail her. For a second, she considers allowing the man his championing. Coming to Juno’s rescue would only strengthen their ties to each other, but it would also add to the already thick tension usually named RUBY that lives between Ransom and Jet. 

“They are only implications at this point, gentlemen, and if no one minds, I would like to get some solid evidence. Rita, dear?”

Rita blinks, her thick glasses magnifying her already large eyes to a near comical degree. “Oh! Um, well. I…” She hesitates the way she does everything, which is to say, obviously. After a minute or so doing the vocal equivalent of working out jitters, Rita turns the screen of her comms around to face the rest of them. On it, a name is highlighted and linked back to several other documents and pictures; security feeds, mostly, but some pictures scraped off Social’s as well, and most edited with red eyes, horns and a snaking tail.

Very cute.

Mx. Diamond O’Toole. 

Handsome enough, Buddy can suppose, if one likes that kind of thing. They’re tall, with light olive skin and waves of dirty blonde hair impeccably styled, no matter the picture. Thin lips, a thick, square jaw, and pale blue eyes like chips of ice over a cragged nose at odds with the rest of their polished features. They wear a ring, but when Buddy scans over the assembled pictures, rarely do they pose with the same person twice, though that person is always tucked possessively under one thickly muscled arm.

“What of their spouse?” 

“Which one?” Rita grumbles, and at the flick of her hands a dozen more profiles span out around Mx. O’Toole, gentlefolk of all persuasion with only commonality the hazy lovestruck look across all their faces. Well, that and - “Now there’s nothin’ wrong with havin’ more’n one, my aunt, you know she’s got a whole tangle of datemates and it’s real confusing but she loves ‘em all so much, but I ain’t never seen someone treat their partners like this, not outside of -”

“I see,” Buddy says, and unfortunately, does. 

They all have a diamond stud in their left ear. 

The same ear which Juno has pierced, but leaves unadorned.

“Are we to assume that Mx. O’Toole is going to be a guest at the party this evening, then?” Jet asks, hands folded casually in front of him. If Buddy were not so close or so familiar with him, she would almost be able to think he was the very image of patient focus, but as it is she can see his knuckles whitening under the force of being kept together.

“They weren’t supposed to be! I’ve been over this guest list three times already makin’ sure Mistah Steel and Mistah Ransom’s aliases are locked in and then I was goin’ over it the _fourth_ time and wham! There’s Mx. Diamond at the top of the list like a guest of honor!”

“Rita,” Buddy interrupts, gently. “I believe you may need to start at the beginning, as it were.” 

Again, Rita hesitates, and Buddy’s well of patience begins to run dry. 

“You may stick only to facts about Mx. O’Toole if you would like, but you seem to be implying the addition of this guest has changed the entirety of the plan and I am having a good deal of trouble understanding why. If Juno can not join us, he cannot and we will make do, but why is Mx. O’Toole now a person of interest?”

“You grow up on Mars, Ms. Captain Buddy, specifically when you grow up in Hyperion City, you get used to dealing at least a little bit with the Families that run the Inner Core. O’Toole ain’t a Family name, so officially, they’re an associate of the Family. But before they changed it, they were Diamond DeVoss.”

Ransom stiffens in his seat. “DeVoss? As in, the family with a stranglehold on the clone farming industry and more money than god, DeVoss?”

She watches the minute changes that tell her Jet and Vespa are tucking away that information, just as she is. Of the aliases she assumes to belong to Ransom, the names that no one has ever heard of but pop up attached to large, showy jobs that could never be done by an amateur, she hasn’t yet found any that attach him to the DeVoss’s but well, it’s something to consider.

Clicking her tongue, Rita nods, “That’s the one. When Mistah Steel met Mx. Diamond, he was still workin’ at the HCPD and Mx. Diamond was, officially, an informant. ‘Course, that was before Mx. Pereya became the mayor and things shook out with the mob bein’ in control of the banks which is when Mx. Diamond became in charge of taking payments _from_ the HCPD, which is when they started to really become important.”

“Mars is very broken,” Jet says, somberly. “I have spent most of my adult years as a career criminal and that is one of the more heinous things I have ever heard.”

Rita nods. “You get used to it. Unless you’re Mistah Steel, then you just get obsessive and angry and get a lot of evidence of corruption that ends up getting destroyed because-”

“Rita.”

“Right. Point is, what Mx. Diamond does mostly is introductions. This person to that one. If you impress them, they move you up the ladder. Which means,”

Buddy sighs. “If Mx. O’Toole is now a honored guest, it is because our esteemed host is looking to broaden his horizons and include the Stellar Mafia among his many and varied connections. If Mx. O’Toole is as important as you say, they are certainly to bring their own security and their own problems along with them, yes?”

“Yeah. And….and they just ain’t a good person, Ms. Captain. They don’t care about people, not as people. They make a good show of it, sure, but people are just....game pieces to them!” 

“So what have they got on Steel?” Vespa growls, shoulders around her ears and mouth tightened into an angry line. 

“Huh?”

“They’ve got something on him, some evidence or information? What is it? If Steel’s got skeletons in his closet, -”

Vespa has gotten better about Juno. They may never be confidants, but she knows him well enough now that she is not usually willing to immediately think the worst. Buddy wishes she could take her hand, wrap Vespa in her arms and hold her ear against her heart until she is calm enough to talk herself down from the paranoia she is spiralling into. But at these meetings, at this table, they are not life partners, but work ones. “Vespa.”

“Tell me I’m wrong, Bud! If Steel is on the wrong side of the Stellar mafia,”

“He ain’t though!” Rita snaps, bracing her sticky, pink tinged hands on the table and standing to her full, demure, height. “Nothin’ that happened with Mx. Diamond was Mistah Steel’s fault and I ain’t lettin’ no one say it was!” 

Buddy takes a second to scroll through her mental rolodex. Rita interacts with the world in a specific way, through a screen. With a layer of careful escapism usually drawn between her and the real world. It’s not the most eccentric trait Buddy has ever dealt with by far and she has no trouble mentally engaging with Rita on the level she is usually comfortable at. “Perhaps you’ve seen the stream _Enough is Enough_?” She offers.

Rita’s chin wobbles for a second before she takes a deep breath and sits herself back down, fishing out a small set of hand wipes out from her pocket and wiping herself and her comm clean the way Buddy has seen her do whenever she needs a second to refocus and calm. Something usually accompanied by Juno snapping ‘Rita! Hands!’ 

“This ain’t like any stream I’ve ever seen, Ms. Buddy,” she sniffs.  
  


* * *

“You think they were drugging you?”

“No,” Juno says softly, consideringly, “no, I know they were drugging me. I was just also drugging myself. And I was drinking myself, and I was deluding myself. See, everything was - good, with Diamond. I was happy with Diamond. I was taken care of, I didn’t have to worry about anything. I didn’t hate myself when I was with Diamond. I didn’t want to die when I was with Diamond. I didn’t care about anything when I was with Diamond. And then Diamond would be gone, again, and I would be alone, again, and I would hate myself, again, and I would need more and more of those drugs to feel half as good as I did when they were back and all I would care about is when they would get back.” 

“Forgive me, dear. But Rita made it seem like it was a rather long time between when they left...”

“It was, the first time." Juno licks his lips, looking anywhere but her. "They left so quickly, they forgot to marry me, even. Everything was paid for, though. The wedding, the venue, the caterer, my dress, the apartment - everything. They’d even left me a card to an account that was never closed. I...I couldn’t make heads or tails of it until the next time they showed up. Swept me off my feet again, and I let them.” 

“How long was it after that?”

“They were important enough then that they could get back in and around Mars but not so high that they could come and go as they pleased. So. Couple of months some times, a couple of years, others.” 

“And they would find you, every time?” 

“I have no idea how, but yeah. I was like an art piece they wanted to install in their Martian vacation home, only I kept wandering off. After the last time I kicked whatever they offered, I had Rita keep a tab on when they’d get to Mars, if she could, and I’d hide.”

“How long has it been?”

“I’m near five years clean.” Juno, on a roll now, laughs bleakly. “You want to know the worst part? Worse than knowing they pegged me for an easy mark from the start, worse than knowing what I was in for and going back anyway? I was a cop. I could not tell you the amount of battered spouses making excuses I saw over the years. It’s not their fault. They didn’t really hurt me. What am I going to do without them? And then going home and thinking, thank the gods I’m not like that. It’s different. With Diamond, it’s different.” 

“I’m sorry, dear.”

“No, no I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dropped this on you. I just. The kindest thing they ever did was leave me, and I was too stupid to realize what a gift that was until I was years past it.”

* * *

"What?" Diamond laughed, "That...that's a funny joke, my man. You can't be married to my wife! I think I'd know if you were married to my wife."

"I was under the impression that you never made it beyond fiance, Mx. O'Toole."

Diamond's grin hardened on their face. They snapped their fingers and one of their many attendants and sycophants ran up, tablet at the ready.

Nureyev took an unconcerned sip of his champagne.

"Check on my wife, for me," they ordered, once jovial voice full of a soft menace.

"Which one, my Diamond?"

"Which-? My first wife. The Martian one."

"Y-you don't have a spouse on Mars, Mx." The attendant's eyes stayed on the tablet and her voice shook under the stress.

"What." Diamond reared back, blinking in shock. Looking all the world like someone given the shock of their life. "That's. No, no, no, we gotta fix that. Juno's special. He's a detective, brilliant, my most clever spouse! How long since I've been back on Mars?"

"Um," the attendant's hand flew over the tablet. "It looks like four years, Mx."

"Too long. You book me something for, next week, say. We'll surprise him. Get the documents sorted out. In the meantime, get him something nice from his catalogue, something he'll like."

"M-Mx. I'm afraid I don't have a catalogue for-"

"Why. Is there no catalogue. For my first wife?"

Nureyev thought she rallied herself well. "He...he wasn't on the list of spouses but let me put something together, I'm sure we can find something that will suit him."

"Of course you will."

Nuryev took his cue and stepped around to the assistant's other side. "A new car perhaps, the one he drives now must be fifteen years old," he suggested sweetly and he saw Diamond's hands clench.

"Why is my wife driving a car fifteen years old? My people don't drive outdated cars. No. You'll put a catalogue together for him right now, and you'll give him whatever he needs from now on. Juno is special, and he has been disrespected in this house for far too long," Diamond said and waved an arm toward Nureyev, "look at what he's had to turn to, no offense."


	5. DM Inception Simulation, MK.I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno opens his eye and doesn't immediately how he got here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot I want to do with this idea, but as of right now I just needed to get this specific part out of the way. It's unpolished and I might retool and rework it later.
> 
> CW: readers who experience hallucinations or have trouble distinguishing what is real may find this chapter difficult. As always, read at your own discretion and stay safe!

He's not sure how he got here. He isn't sure how any of them got to be here, and the feeling is suspiciously familiar. It nags at him, like having a sharp piece of something stuck in your gums that gets more painful when you tongue at it.

"Then how did we get here, you wanna explain that, thief?" Vespa's shouting, but it feels far away, like he's hearing it from underwater. She was quiet at first. Scared. Until someone else confirmed that this is wrong, somehow. That they don't know how they got here. 

Nureyev doesn’t say anything. But he never defends himself against Vespa. That’s usually Juno’s job.

“Juno?”

“Hm,” Juno hums distractedly. 

Juno's always loved mazes. 

He's never been in one, not one like this. A giant hedge maze, straight from fantasy streams or historical pictures. Too thick to see or reach through, taller than any of them, even stacked on top of one another. He's never seen one in person, but somehow he sits in the center. 

He doesn't know it's the center. But that's what feels right. 

"You've been awfully quiet," a ghostly voice says from behind him, and Juno relaxes, despite himself. "Got any theories, detective?"

"It's not real."

“I mean, it’s kind of real.” 

“What?” Juno spins, pinning his twin with a look and trying to pretend that seeing Ben again doesn’t still steal the breath from his lungs. 

“Hey! You’re mostly right! This place isn’t real, per say, but it’s also not a weird amalgamation of your memories thrown together by a machine trying to save your life! So, that’s a win, right?” 

The voices of his crew, his family, rush in and hit him all at once. 

“Juno?” Buddy’s no nonsense voice cracks like a whip, lacking all the casual air that she usually relies on. 

“What are you trying to pull, Steel?”

“Is that,” Nureyev, sounding so soft, hesitating over the words he knows will hurt, “it can’t be…”

“So what is this place?” Juno demands and then scoffs. “Why am I even asking you? If I don’t know, you don’t know, right? So, what about them, then? I know why you’re here, but what are they doing here?”

Benzaiten sighs, “I told you, it’s not like last time. I’m all the memories you have of me, yeah, but I’m also a really important part of you, and that gives me some special responsibilities around here,” Benten puffs his chest up, peacocking his self importance.

“Around here? I’m as glad as anyone to not be in my childhood bedroom reliving the worst day of my life, but why -”

“Oh, come on,” Benten rolls his eyes with his entire body. neck and head and turning into a spin. So dramatic. Juno’d forgotten how theatrical he was when he wanted to make a point. “You know where we are. You’ve known it all along.”

Ignoring the increasingly loud demands behind him, he takes a closer look at the place he’s found himself. And to his great annoyance, Ben is right. He does know where he is. And he feels his face get hot, glowing with the embarrassment of his recognition. “This! Is not!” 

“Oh, but it is!” Ben squirms with glee. “You remember now! We knew this place backward and forward, every imaginary inch. The stepping stones, the hedges, the fountain, the benches...it’s all here.”

“It only ever existed in two places...”

“Three, if you wanna get technical,” Ben says teasingly. Egging him on.

And Juno falls for it, like he always does: “Two. We never wrote it down!”

“Uh, we didn’t come up with it, though.”

“Okay, she started it, sure, but we never told her about this. Any of this. So the whole thing only ever existed in two places!” 

“Juno,” he starts when Buddy steps between them, tired of being ignored. “As much as I am enjoying this apparently impossible but darling display, perhaps you might inform the rest of us as to where we are, now that you’ve apparently solved the mystery?” 

“Shouldn’t you know already?” 

From behind Buddy’s back, Ben hums apologetically, “Yeah, that’s the other thing…”

“What.”

“Darling?” Buddy nearly snaps. “An explanation. Now.”

Juno huffs. “It’s gonna sound - well, I know how this is going to sound but, this place never existed outside my head. It’s a maze Ben and I made together out of one of my mom’s old stories.”

“So, you’re saying we’re in your...mind right now?” Buddy says delicately. 

“I’m saying that I am in my mind right now, as for you,” he cuts himself off as Ben coughs, unsubtly. “Oh, you’re _kidding_ me.”

“Hey don’t get mad at me, I just live here!”

“Why here! And if you know so much why don’t you tell us what’s going on!”

Benten flashes him a blinding smile and trots over to the closest hedgewall. “Wanna see something cool?” 

Juno hadn’t noticed before, but there are flowers among the hedges, flowers and wickedly sharp looking thorns, some sticking more than an inch out of the foliage, waiting to stab any poor unsuspecting chump who got too close. He huffs. It’s a bit of a heavy handed metaphor but he can’t really fault his own brain for latching on to the obvious. 

Ben flicks one of the bulbs of the flowers, and the voice of Sasha Wire comes out, just as he remembers it: “Until a century ago Dark Matters was a ‘hokey urban legend,’ Juno. Forgive us for lending them some professional courtesy.”

He lets that sink in for a moment. Then two. Focusing on Ben’s sad smile and his youthful face, stuck perfectly the way it was when he died, absent of the scars and worn lines that carve his own. “You’re telling me Dark Matter trapped us all in my mind? Why? And how do you know?”

“Excuse me,” Nureyev interrupts smoothly, like Buddy did, he steps between them, cutting off Juno’s sightline to his brother. “Juno, dear. Perhaps we ought not trust figments of our imagination while trapped in virtual mind space, hm?”

“Relax, sneaky, Dark Matters couldn’t use me if they tried, and boy are they trying! And as for the other stuff,”

“They chose me because they assumed I’d think in logical patterns, making it easy for them to get to the information they know is here. If this is my world, and they brought you into it, they’d assume they can get to you all through me, and they can get to me through my brother, but…”

“But no one knew me like you did,” Ben smiles.

“You are saying that Dark Matters did try to use you against us,” Jet’s reasonable tone cuts in from well across the courtyard. He’s with Rita, who Juno can now see is picking up rocks and turning over leaves and has a collection of items in her stubby arms. Things Juno forgot about. She holds up a pair of earrings he lost years ago to the light that mimics the Martian afternoon and whoops. 

“No, I’m saying Dark Matters is trying to use me but can’t. Any version of me they try to bring in the space is invested in keeping Juno safe, because any version of me, is still me.”

“It’s all dream logic, then. Lovely.” Buddy says shortly.

“Forgive me,” Nureyev presses, “but that assumes a large amount of autonomy, for a memory.”

Juno’s lips move and he catches himself before the word slips out. 

He tries again, and “Nu-” 

And again “N…” 

Dream logic. 

The man in front of him is Peter Nureyev. No matter the name or the persona, to Juno, he has always been Peter Nureyev. 

“Juno?” he turns, sheltering Juno from the rest of them. “Love, are you alright?

“I can’t,” he hisses, “I can’t not say it.”

Nureyev stiffens. “Ah, well, that makes a certain kind of sense, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

“This is where you keep all your secrets. Inside that lovely head of yours. Why would you need to keep secrets from yourself?” 

It’s Juno’s turn to go rigid and he forces himself to stay still and not tear across the space to where Rita is still happily collecting the treasures of memory that Juno’s kept for the past twenty years. A small, hysteric part of himself wonders when she’ll find his wedding dress. A larger part of him doesn’t want to know. 

“The thing is,” Ben interrupts gently, “I both am Benzaiten Steel and I’m just the memory of him. This is the last place I exist in the world. Inside the head of the person who knew me better than anyone. So you could say that I’ve got a pretty big motive to keep him safe. And, uh, now the rest of you, I guess.”

“I see, one more question, if I might?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Were you the more annoying twin?”


	6. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scene set post Nureyev's sudden, yet inevitable betrayal - contains SPOILERS for Heart of it All

HMMMM POST-BETRAYAL SCENE WITH BUDDY AND JUNO

Juno's sitting in the mess of what Nureyev left in his room. Just sitting. Too exhausted to do anything else. When Buddy comes in. 

"Well," she says briskly. "We best get it all out of the way now, don't you think, darling?"

Juno grunts, more focused on an object in his hand than her. 

"Did you know?"

She lets the silence sit, refusing to repeat herself.

"Did I know what?" Juno eventually croaks. "Did I know he had debts? Did I know he'd take everything? Did I know he was gonna leave m-" He cuts himself off. Choking on that last syllable, not quite a sob.

"Well?" She refuses the tears that want to come to her eye. She has to know. 

"No. I didn't," Juno spits.

She picks her way through the detritus of cons past, persona's left behind and allows herself to collapse beside Juno, leaning against his side. It's only once she gets that close she can see what's in his hand and her breath catches in her chest. 

"Did he...?"

Juno snorts. "No. We talked about it, but no. I found it in the drawer. Didn't want to promise me a future he couldn't commit to, I guess."

Buddy nods. "I see."

It's a sweet ring, simple and unpretentious. Not very Peter Ransom. But then, he wasn't Peter Ransom was he? 

"Would you have said yes?"

"I already told you, I didn't know-"

"Yes, darling, and I believe you so it's safe to say we've quite exhausted that route." She uses one red lacquered nail to tap the ring. "If he had asked?"

Juno is silent for a time, and it's only when he sniffles, quietly, she realizes that he's crying. She's not sure what she expected. Perhaps big, stream star dramatics, or wailing like a widow in a funeral procession. But his grief is small and his and she feels very suddenly as though she is intruding. It's not a feeling she enjoys but she enjoys being ignorant even less.

"Yes. If he'd asked, then, yeah. I would have."

She allows herself a single, heartfelt sigh.

"He didn't get the cure mother prime, small mercies I suppose."

"He didn't want the cure mother prime." Juno says, immediately and as though he is stating a fact.

"That's an interesting guess," Buddy replies, a might testily but she has more than enough reason to be, in her opinion.

Juno shakes his head, hand clenching around the ring. "He waited until after we had it. He could have left at any point with the map, key, book and blade but he didn't. He waited. Until after we had it."

"A thief who has access to a legendary payday and takes trinkets instead?" Buddy infuses her voice with all the skepticism she can muster, which is sadly less than usual.

"A nameless thief who went after a legend, knowing he could easily be written out of its history. A thief with debts, and a past and a name that connects him to things," Juno sighs, sniffles. "Things...best left behind."

"I got close, you know," Buddy says, conversationally. "There are certain things no disguise can truly mask, much less a disguise that one wears for a year, in good company. Our friend was from the Outer Rim, like myself. Lost, traded, or otherwise renounced his name some twenty or so years ago. Has been working very big jobs with some very unique calling cards ever since."

Juno winces.

There.

"I was very close." She says again.

"Buddy, I can't."

"Why." She wishes it could be a question, more flies with honey and all that. But it has been a very long day and her fianceé is riddled with guilt and terror and anger, even looking at Jet with suspicious eyes. Jet, who has not left the spot where the Ruby7 was parked not one day ago. 

The note said it would return, but, well, who can take a car at its word? 

"I promised."

"Juno - I might ask you a great many things about that promise. I could ask the exact wording, I could ask if there is use in keeping it, now. I could even ask if keeping it is worth the trust and respect of your crew mates."

"It's important, Buddy. You honestly think, in a profession that prides itself on names and reputations that he would trade his away for _nothing_? It...it means something. And I wish I could tell you what, but I'm not. I'm not from out there. I don't know what it was like, during the war or after or -"

"Juno." 

He stops, and breaths hard for a few seconds, until she cannot feel him shaking against her side anymore. 

"Juno, darling. All I know is that I have 5 people aboard this ship, all heartbroken and missing their family. And I have nothing to tell them as to why."

"Oh please, like Vespa-" 

"Is mourning in her own way." Buddy snaps, firm and immovable. "She lived and worked with Rans...with Pet...with the thief for a year and change, Juno. _That_ isn't nothing and I would ask you not to imply otherwise." 

Juno fiddles with the ring. Turning it over and over in his hands. 

He does not slide it on. 

"Brahma." 

So quietly she almost misses it. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"He's from Brahma. His name is Peter. But he said the only people who ever called him that wanted to be his parent. So, I guess you know you were important to him." 

Buddy, for once again in a really very short period of time, is speechless. Her mind racing too fast to put words to feelings to memories. 

Peter. 

"Buddy?" 

A thief named Peter. From Brahma. 

The way he twirled his knife before he threw it looked so familiar and she couldn't place it before. The mercenary approach to jobs. Eyes on the prize, not the why's. That's the first rule of thieving. 

"Buddy?" 

"Oh Mag," she gasps, and feels Juno jolt at her side. "The apple never does fall far, does it darling?" 


	7. I Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yes this is based on the scene from Schitts Creek. i've wanted to write it for months and so here we are.

"Pete, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that this is an incredibly complicated and dangerous mission to be doing solo, and if I had my druthers it would never be happening at all." Buddy said, usual easy elegance replaced by clipped words and forced wit. "But I will, and I am."

"Of course, Captain," his voice was only slightly distorted by the comms, but it came through clear and confident nonetheless.

Nureyev's 'Ransom' voice wasn't much different then his regular one, though there were a few key differences Juno found. His Rex voice and his Duke voice had been meant to be annoying. Meant to rub people the wrong way and put them ill at ease. Ransom is less purposely annoying, but was made to be chatty. Not about anything that matters, just filling whatever silence with the sound of his own voice. It's a little lighter, a little whinier.

So it caught Juno's ear when the words that came from the comms were _not actually Ransom at all_ , but pure Nureyev. A single, tight sentence. No flowers, no froof. His usual deference paid to Buddy, but that's hero worship from Peter Nureyev, not the ingratiating neediness of Ransom.

There were only two emotions that could reliably cause him to break character in front of the rest of the crew: terror or excitement.

Juno ran his eye over the map Buddy was frowning at.

Oof. A lot of locked doors, a lot of security, a lot of cameras and a _lot_ of ground to cover until the rendezvous. Jet and Rita had already been forced to retreat, leaving the thief completely on his own and, for the first time in months, entirely reliant on his own skills to get him home. No safety net.

"You can rest assured I won't let you down," Nureyev was saying, when Juno tuned back in.

"Pete," Buddy near snapped, and Juno cut in on whatever bad advice she was about to give.

"Hey Ransom," he called, and was only a little smug when Nureyev seemed to startle, apparently not aware he'd been in the room.

"Yes, dear?"

Juno very determinedly did not shiver in front of Buddy.

The pet names were...new was all. And he was still figuring out how he felt about them in the light of day, in front of other people. Other then silly and giddy and...shivery.

"This whole mission has gone pretty much to hell, and I don't want to add any more stress on you," Juno started.

Nureyev sighed. "But?"

Juno smirked. "I love you."

The silence was so thick and went on for so long Juno checked to see that their call hadn't dropped and was almost nervous enough to rethink his plan.

Buddy was, plainly, looking at him as though he'd lost his mind, and it was a miracle she kept quiet, waiting, like he was, for Nureyev's response.

"Juno," Nureyev audibly fumed, using his name like a curse, and Juno grinned, shoulder's sagging in pure relief. Gone was the tight, nervous tone and in its place the same colder, pragmatic one that Juno remembered from a train and a tomb and a ball. "did you choose to say that to me, for the first time, _right now_?"

"Yup," he made sure to smack his lips on the 'p.'

"Knowing it would stress me further?"

"Yeah, and if you wanna say it back, you're gonna have to get home, safe and sound."

"What? Juno!"

"Love you, gotta go, bye!" He stabbed the end call button on Buddy's comms and settled in for the wrath of their captain.

It didn't take long.

"Well," she said briskly. "I suppose you must have some very sane and logical explanation as to why you chose to cut off our only means of contact with our thief, knowing he is alone, knowing we cannot regain contact without Rita, and knowing he must now complete this without back up, so I would dearly love to hear it, darling. Now, if you would."

"One - he never had back up in the first place, you two would just bicker about what to do and he would take your advice, even though you aren't there and we're clearly working off old information, which could get him killed! Two - he studies all the schematics himself before a mission and you know it, he knows that place just as well as any of us and he's better at grifting on the fly. And three," Juno shrugged helplessly, "- he works better under pressure and with a time limit, don't ask me why."

Buddy studied him with that dark, blazing eye and Juno found himself shrinking from her gaze, like he always did when she turned its full force on him. He was right. He wanted to be right.

Finally, she hummed and reached her wine glass, taking a smooth sip of the pale yellow stuff. What it was, other than wine, was anyone's guess but his. Juno'd dated a wine drinker in his early 30s but he still couldn't tell a Chardonnay from a...another white wine.

"The first time?" She finally questioned.

Oh.

Juno ducked his head, pressing his lips together.

"I don't mean to pry because it's none of my business and frankly I don't care, but you two have been," she waved a hand, somehow not spilling a drop, "involved for months now, so I would have thought..."

"Yeah, well, we had a lot of history to work through."

Buddy hums again. "Then I suppose I'll be brief with the debrief, darling."

Oh. Well. That was. A lot less embarrassing then Juno thought it might be.

"Although."

Annnd there it was.

"If you ever ever get it into that lovely head of yours to do something like this again,"

Oh. Threats. Juno grinned, he knew how to handle threats. "You'll have my heart on a platter, yeah, yeah."

"And Juno?"

"You can have my liver too, if you want it, but it's not in the best condition -"

"Congratulations, darling."


	8. Kiss Prompts pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection of drabbles within a collection of drabbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are all prompts and situations that tickle my fancy. YMMV. No real trigger or content warnings beyond one scene having Nureyev be a little pushy, but Juno's canonically got a thing for pushy confidence so I'm pretty okay with it. 
> 
> I cannot promise there will ever be a part 2. That being said, if you wanna prompt me with one, my dms on twitter, tumblr, and discord are always open.

The 'awkward' kiss is post family breakfast - Buddy's given Nureyev a big mission and he gets excited, bounces up to begin his preparations when Juno's like 'aren't you forgetting something?'

'Ah, yes. So sorry, love,' Nureyev grins, leaning down to buss Juno quickly but sweetly on the lips. 

'Wh- no...Ransom! Do your dishes! Damn, who raised you?'

* * *

Angry kiss is the first one Juno initiates in front of the crew - immediately post mission, where he oversteps Buddy to yell at Nureyev for how dangerous 'X' was. Yanks him into a furious kiss. 'I am so glad you're okay,' he snaps between kisses.

And then starts yelling again. 

Nureyev lets this all sweep over him with the biggest dopey smile

* * *

76\. Top of head kisses

Nureyev doesn't have a problem doing his own hair. He's used to it, the twists, plaits, ties and pins that shape it into whatever style is necessary for the character or heist of the day. 

That is not to say that he never struggles. 

"Oh, just let me-" Juno snaps, after watching him take down the intricate braid and start over again for the third time.

Nureyev doesn't expect much, if he's being honest, from Juno's help. But his hands are deft and sure, quickly wetting the hair, smoothing in product, twisting and tucking in loose hairs as he goes. 

Soon, Nureyev has a crowning braid looping over the top of his head, artful strands of baby hair tickling his temples and neck. 

"Why, Juno," he breathes.

Juno smooths a tendril in place and lays a quick kiss on the piled, twisting hair. "There. Now you're perfect."

* * *

"Good morning love," Nureyev grins, practically skipping into the kitchen, still riding the high of a successful con. 

Juno grunts.

It doesn't escape Nureyev's notice that Juno did not come to see him when he got back last night. But - he doesn't come over every night. There's no reason to assume there's something wrong. Not this early in the morning. He ducks in close and just as quickly Juno ducks away from him.

"I know you're not trying to kiss me right now," Juno scowls.

Oh.

"Juno, dear, you're not still-"

"Upset? No!" He rolls his eye, "What gave you that idea?" 

"I did apologize, love," Nureyev says delicately, stepping close again when just Juno hums, turning away and aggressively attempting to ignore him.

"Juno..." he murmurs. There is something about this man...he can't help but push his luck. 

"Stop it," Juno warns, but he stays still and allows Nureyev to remain close, which is promising.

"You're not still upset."

"Oh, I'm not?"

"No."

"How do you figure that?" 

He trails a finger along the edge of Juno's loose sleep shirt, rucked up over one hip. "Because your back just arched."

He hears Juno bite back a gasp, leaning into the touch before he shies away. "It did not."

Smiling, he takes another inch, spreading his hand along that stretch of skin under Juno's shirt and guiding him close. "I'm sorry, love," he says, not even pretending to remember what he's apologizing for. 

Juno sighs against his lips, melting against him, all ire forgotten. "How do I let you do this every time?"

* * *

3\. Drunken kiss 

Jet is the one who let Nureyev know that he should come and get Juno. 

Apparently, it was 'ladies night' which, apparently meant that Juno and Rita got wine drunk and more wild then Jet could deal with alone.

"Hey, baby!" Juno all but tumbled into his arms when the door slid open. 

"Oh!" Carrying Juno wasn't an easy task. It's not what Nureyev would call 'difficult' either, but it required more effort then not. "Hello, love."

"Hi." Juno grinned, straightening up and taking Nureyev's face in his hands. "I missed you!"

"You saw me four hours ago, dear."

Juno hummed, pressing a slick, wine soaked kiss to the only part he could reach, Nureyev's jawbone. "Did you miss me?"

Following the insistent tug of Juno's hands he bent down, submitting more, equally sloppy kisses across his chin and up his cheeks. "Oh course I did, love. Lets get you to bed."

* * *

29\. First Kiss

"You know," Leon Prince mused, lips just grazing Juno's ear as they swirled around the ball room, "this is the closest I've ever been to a lady like yourself." 

"Oh really," Juno snorted, twirling under Leon's arm before being brought close again, chest to chest.

"It's true!"

"Yeah, sure, you're very pure."

Leon hummed, "I've never even been kissed."

_That_ was too much. "Oh come off it!"

"Strictly speaking..." The taller man lowered his voice. "Leon Prince is telling the truth."

Juno rolled his eye, allowing Leon to guide him into a dip. But as they rose back to position, he took advantage of their closeness, tilting his head to brush their lips together. He felt Leon freeze for just a moment before continuing their dance. "Was it everything you always dreamed of?" He asked, not half as sarcastic as he could have been and much more breathless then he _should_ have been.

Leon's dark eyes seemed to sparkle behind the tinted lenses. "And more."

* * *

42&43 - Sated and Soft

Juno's still warm and damp from the shower when he climbs into bed and for a second, Nureyev is a little sad about choosing not to follow him in for round two. On the other hand, his limbs still feel heavy with fatigue and he isn't sure Juno would be able to stand after another round, so.

Still, he tucks the thought away just as Juno tucks himself close, under Nureyev's arm with his head pillowed over the slow beat of Nureyev's loving heart.

"Feel better, love?"

Juno snorts. "I certainly feel less sticky, that's for sure."

Sleep begins to tug on his mind now that Juno is back and settled. But he can't let himself slip away just yet. "I love you," he mutters, hearing the sleep in his own voice.

Juno raises his head, slowly, as if it's very heavy indeed and Nureyev's mind conjures the phrase 'heavy is the head,' from somewhere. 

"I love you too," he says, leaning up to press their lips together. Its a quick, firm kiss. Not passionate, not lackluster or suffering for the exhaustion they both feel. It feels like a great many things. A thank you, a promise for later, a good night, an i love you.

It's a kiss of familiarity and Nureyev wants to taste it again every night for the rest of his life...

His eyes snap open.

_Oh._

* * *

24\. 

"Do you know why they call it the 'kiss of life,' dear detective?" Nureyev had the good sense to whisper it in Juno's ear rather then attract the attention of the rest of the crew as they gasped, scoffed or cried over the finale.

Juno fit solidly in the middle category, huffing his annoyance under his breath. It's a game, usually, between the two Martian's. Juno pulls, Rita pushes, and they see-saw back and forth between carefree teasing, and playful bickering. But when Rita has announced the movie for this evening's family bonding, he had categorically refused. Digging his heels in like Nureyev hadn't seen from him since...well, a good while ago. Which made Rita puff up, and Juno plant himself even firmer and before anyone knew it, the jovial threats had turned into mean spirited squabbling. Thing were said, sides were taken and when the dust all settled, Juno's attendance was guaranteed but he was allowed to work and ignore the stream to his hearts content. 

"Because the writers are all hacks and go for the cheap emotional shot?" He grumbled, refusing to take his eye off his comms. 

Smothering his smile, Nureyev squeezed the man in his arms, and, after a second of thought, squeezed his legs tight around Juno's middle as well. "I think there's something to be said for the sharing of breath between two people, don't you, love?"

Juno turned his head, treating him to a magnificent scowl. "Pull the other one, it's got bells on it," he hissed. 

Unable to resist, Nureyev stole a quick kiss, counting on the others involvement in the film. "Because it doesn't work as often as it does in the streams. There's only a very small percent chance it will work." 

"Okay?"

"Isn't that wonderful, love? That a very small percent of the time, we can change the course of life and death." 

Juno looked at him closely before he stole another kiss and turned back to the screen, comms forgotten. "Yeah, I guess it is."


	9. Message: Sending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight months is a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely, extra-plus-ordinary sent me a meme and I had to make a ficlet.

Message: Sending.

Pending Messages: 154/154

> _And today marks the sixth month that rising tensions have closed the intergalactic borders between the inner Sol and outer rim. No one knows whe-_

“Jeez, Rita, turn that crap off,” Juno complains, more sharp than he means to, and resolves to buy her some spicy salmon crunchies to make up for it.

Rita grumbles, but she changes the channel anyway, flicking past stream after stream til she settles on a sitcom she’s seen a hundred times. It’s a good one too, not even anything Juno can complain about. Figures.

He’s not going to ask her. He’s going to focus on editing this section of the next dumb book in Mick’s stupid series. He’s going to think about what those zany kids that totally aren’t based on him and Sasha are up to. He’s going to try and remember the plot and compare it to the last few to make sure they aren’t getting too repetitive, but honestly…Old Town had a lot of businesses go under, a lot of property for sale and a lot of shady people trying to take advantage of that. They closed down three mob fronts, two money laundering joints and a loan shark before Juno was fifteen.

He’s not going to ask. Hey, what do you know, this one’s about how Mick lost his popularity when everyone found out the ‘king of the freeway’ had been lying, but kept his friends. Who, of course, knew all along but didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Any news?” Juno asks.

“Sorry, Mistah Steel. I’m wokin’ on it every day, little by little but the connections are so fuzzy all over the place and they bounce, which i guess makes sense when you consider,”

Juno sighs, the rest of Rita’s incredibly complicated explanation — which of course transitions into her ranking the _Spring on Jupiter and Mars_ specials from best to worst, including the musicals but not the operas — going in one ear and out the other.

He opens his comms.

> _My better half,_
> 
> _I’m not worried about you._
> 
> _I miss you more than I did when I thought I’d lost you forever, but I’m not worried. I wasn’t worried then either. I know you can handle yourself._
> 
> _But I do. Miss you, that is. Rita’s still not having any luck with the comms barrier between Sol and the rim, which means_
> 
> _I know you’re not going to get these. I guess that’s why I’m okay with writing them. Here I can just — miss you and not have it be a whole thing, you know? I swear sometimes Rita’s more upset that you’re gone then I am. You should hear her carry on, like I’m a widow or something._
> 
> _No, like *she* is the widow._
> 
> _I think we’re both getting antsy. Hard to believe we lived here so long without ever wanting to leave and now_
> 
> _I know better than to tell you to keep out of trouble._
> 
> _Don’t get caught. How’s that?_
> 
> _I know, I know. How could I ever think you would get caught?_
> 
> _Come home soon. I’ll be waiting._
> 
> _forever  
>  your other half._

Message: Sending.

Pending Messages: 155/155

________

And so it goes.

Juno doesn’t go back to his office. Doesn’t reinstate his P.I license. But it’s not like they can do nothing either.

He tells Nureyev all of this in the letters that won’t send.

> _We’re getting a reputation as people who can find anyone and anything.  
>  I don’t know if that’s a good thing._

Message: Sending.

Pending Messages: 176/176

________

> _and she didn’t even try to make me sign a contract this time! That’s gratitude for you. We worked together for ten years and now suddenly she doesn’t like me anymore? I introduced her to her wife! I was at the wedding! She named her son…well her son’s name has nothing to do with me, but it’s Roman, so close enough._

Message: Sending.

Pending Messages: 182/182

________

> _I dreamed of you last night. I mean, I dream about you a lot. But I usually know I’m dreaming._

Message: Sending.

Pending Messages: 210/210

________

> _I’m just saying the Cerberus Province isn’t so bad once you get used to it! I’m not suggesting we do like the Aurinko’s and get a summer home there, but commuting for work is fine. And I’m gonna cut you off, no, I’m not suggesting we get an office, either. What would we even bill it as? Master thief, hacker extraordinaire and former private eye: retrievals and acquisitions? That’s awful and also, Jet will want to be on the name card too._

Message: Sending.

Pending Messages: 225/225

________

> _I’m sorry._
> 
> _I’m sorry. I know you’d get it, but I hate that I can’t just talk to you about this. I hate that I have no idea what you’re doing. I hate that I just have to sit here and peck at my comms and hope that you’re coming home. You said to go back to the beginning, so we did. We’re here. But what are we supposed to do while we’re here? …baby I just feel lost. I miss you and I’m lost._
> 
> _Don’t make fun of me for calling you baby. You call me so many pet names I’d forget I *have* a first name if it wasn’t for Jet. If you don’t like it, I can call you something else. I guess._
> 
> _(What do you think of Fool?)_
> 
> _I love you. Come home soon.  
>  Still  
> your other half_

Message: Sending.

Pending Messages: 242/242

________

Juno stands up so fast his chair hits the floor.

> _And finally, after a fraught few months, the bitter stand off between the Solar Government and the Rim Coalition has closed with successful negotiations._

“Rita?” he calls, mouth dry. He’s reaching for…something, feels like he should be doing - something! “Rita?!”

“Gimme a second!” her arms are so full of snacks she can’t see. “Why, it’s gettin’ to be that you can’t even go lookin’ for the lost colonists of XBY2-14J without somethin’ going —”

Grabbing her by the shoulders Juno turns her physically to face the screen.

> _We are being told that the embargo is being lifted and very soon, travel will commence between these two parts of our galaxy._

“Oh! Boss! Boss! Communications grid is goin’ back up!” Rita drops her snacks, pointing wildly.

“I know, that’s what I’ve been trying to…you know what, whatever. Can you,” he gestures futility at the screen as she throws herself into the cushy space where all her computer…stuff is set up. It looks more like a crowded couch than a workspace, to Juno. He has no idea how she manages to do anything in that -

“I’m on it, I’m on it!”

But she does.

Her fingers of one hand fly over her comm screens while the other goes hunting for a snack of some sort. She’s not exactly picky when she gets in the ‘zone.’ Juno nudges a partially eaten bag of matcha pickle chips towards her. Mostly to be helpful, as plying Rita with snacks is about all he’s good for when she gets like this, but also because the combination of matcha-on-pickle turns his stomach and the sooner it’s gone, the better.

**Beep.**

**Beep. Beep.**

**Beep.Beep.Beep.Beep.**

“Mistah Steel,” Rita growls, and Juno hisses a short apology, hunting around his pockets for his own comms.

He’s gotten almost as bad as Nureyev is in the last few months. A set of lock picks have joined the plasma cutter up his coat sleeve and his pockets now hold an ever changing array of tools. A deck of cards, a fake comms, a fake wallet, his keys, a small caliber blaster, a note pad, a watch, a first aid kit…

Ah ha!

> _248 new messages_

With trembling hands he opens the one sent today, not wanting to hope even while his thoughts tie him up in knots. One part of him can’t believe Nureyev must have missed just as much, so much they had the same idea, while an incredulous voice in the back of his mind raves about Nureyev beating him to sending what is apparently _their_ daily message.

_‘My love,’_ He reads, and has to stop and catch his breath from the echo of Nureyev’s voice in his ears saying those words.

He follows them with a flight number and arrival time.

Signs it,

_Your other half._

“He didn’t,” Juno blinks, scrolls over the few messages that came before without really seeing them. “He didn’t tell me where he’s landing!”

Juno is going to kill that thief.

He is going to kiss him silly, and then shake him until he tells them what he was thinking, going off alone like that, and then he is going to kill him because Nureyev has been gone for: Eight. Months. What was supposed to be a two week jaunt to the Rim, stretched out almost a whole year because someone couldn’t pay attention to the galactic-political situation and, after eight months, is coming home; and, didn’t bother to tell the love of his life where he would be landing.

“Eight months,” he mutters, stressing the number. “eight months and he makes his home-coming a god damned mystery…”

“Aww, boss that’s so romantic,” Rita coos, “Mistah N knows how much you love mysteries!”

“Yeah, but I only have,” he checks his comms, “three hours to solve this one!”

“Well then, I guess you better get to researchin’ huh?”

“Rita,” he wheedles.

“Nuh-huh, boss, you got yours and I’m lookin’ for mine.”

He wastes precious seconds to give her a weird look. “Uh, I think you mean ours?”

She pouts aggressively. “Well, yeah, I know that, but it sounds better if I say it like that!”

“To who?” Juno finds himself demanding, “Sounds better to who?”

“It just, it sounds better, okay?”

________

Juno starts to plan a funeral. Because it takes him nearly two hours to hunt down where the first flight from an outer Rim planet is going to be touching down on Mars, and turns out to be a small, barely used port that’s forty minutes from Hyperion.

He uses those forty minutes to think about cheap but tasteful funeral arrangements. There are twenty-four hour funeral parlours in the downtown core, maybe he’ll rent one.

________

**Beep.**

**Beep. Beep.**

**Beep.Beep.Beep.Beep.**

“What the,” Juno grabs his comms.

________

_249 new messages:  
RE: ETA?  
>I love you._

________

_250 new messages  
RE: I’m getting worried…  
>I love you_

________

_251 new messages  
RE: Have you seen the news lately?  
>I love you._

________

Nureyev looks haggard when Juno finally sets his sight on him. His clothes are mussed, his hair limp with grease, face sallow and paler then Juno’s ever seen him. And he’s still the most gorgeous thing Juno’s ever seen.

He runs.

In the back of his mind he knows he must look like one of those love-lorn-love-interests from Rita’s streams but he doesn’t care and doesn’t stop and runs until he crashes into Nureyev’s waiting arms. They wobble and stumble and spin, Nureyev laughing and his comms hitting the ground.

“What were you thinking?” Juno snaps, hooking his chin over Nureyev’s shoulder and tightening his grip. “Were you even thinking? What kind of rocks for brains scheme were you running, baby? Oh, I’ll just skip over a few planets while the governments get uppity about the war reparations, no big deal!”

“Baby?” Nureyev says, his cadence sending a shiver down Juno’s spine.

Juno flushes. He’s gotten used to the pet name, using it in his letters first and then in their bed, so lonely he was sick with it and then finally in the privacy of his own mind. “Shut up,” he grouses, pulling back as much as Nureyev’s strong arms will allow him to and resting their foreheads together, oily skin on skin, so he can stare into that lovely umber eye. “I…I missed you.”

“My apologies, love.” Nureyev’s soft sigh whistles from his nose, tickling the stubble on Juno’s chin. “But this does mean you get to hear your favourite thing,”

“If it’s not ‘I’ll never do that again,’ I don’t want to hear it!” Juno says stubbornly.

Nureyev chuckles, tilting his head and rolling it back and forth so he can rub the tips of their noses together in a way he once described as a ‘rabbit kiss.’ “You were right.”

Juno, god help him, melts. His knees shake and his heart hammers his ribs as tears begin to prick at his eye. “Okay, so maybe I could stand to hear a little more.”

He is going to milk this for all it’s worth, later. But for now, a loving voice in his ear, spiced cologne seeping into Juno’s nose and clothes, and Peter Nureyev back where he belongs — in his arms.


	10. Anesthesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno wakes up from anesthesia.

“Hi,” Juno says slowly. He hasn’t even opened his eye yet, but he paws clumsily towards the side of the bed.

Nureyev takes Juno’s reaching hands with his own, holding them close and rubbing some warmth into his dry skin, careful of the IV. “Take it easy love, Vespa had to do surgery.”

Juno smacks his lips, blinking his eye open slow, like his lid is heavy. “Di'she put me under?”

“She did, dear. She had to.”

“Oh.” Juno’s whole beautiful face collapses in on itself for a moment as he struggles with a sudden bout of tears. 

Vespa had said he might be confused or emotional, she had warned Nureyev against outbursts and given him a panic button in case Juno was the very rare case of an adrenaline reaction. But she had not prepared him for tears, or the way Juno clings back to him, trying to shift closer and the small, hurt sounds that catch in his chest when he can't. 

This is not a thing he can solve or steal or run away from and again, Nureyev feels helpless. 

Juno's trembling lips move silently, and his   
forehead creases in confusion as he tugs his hands away, putting them both of them over his frowning mouth.

“Juno? Love…what are you doing?”

Juno hums an negative, shaking his head sluggishly back and forth against the pillow, further mussing his already tangled hair. Wincing, Nureyev moves to tap at his wrists, just gently, not willing to grip or tug, when the lovely lady’s jaw cracks with another yawn.

“I don’t wanna say th'wrong thing,” juno whines quietly, but perhaps not as quietly as he meant to. He moves his hands up his face to rub at his eyes and grumbles but doesn’t fight when Nureyev moves one away from the empty socket. “Wrong name."

"Oh, Juno."

He reaches out again to try and pat at Nureyev's cheek, and Nureyev catches his hand halfway, guiding. "But I wanna say y'r name. ’S a good name.”

“There’s no one else here, my dear detective,” he rests his lips against Juno’s palm, holding his lady’s hand tight against his cheek to disguise the way he’s trembling. “a-and even if there were,” he hesitates, kissing the warm skin beneath his lips again for courage before he can choke out: “It would be a small price to pay to see you wake up.”


	11. Solidarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about the ace/aroace bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juno isn't aro or ace in this one, he's just shy.

“I do not understand what you see in him,” Jet tilts his head at the screen.

“You’re incapable of understanding,” Benzaiten sighs dreamily.

“I am not incapable of understanding aesthetics,” Jet corrects with a soft chortle of amusement.

“You’re incapable of understanding desire,” Benzaiten says, with the air of correcting his earlier statement while not paying full attention.

“That is not true either. I understand desire, I just do not feel it in that way. Nor would I wish to.”

“Could not be me,” Benzaiten snarks, kicking his bunny slippers as the scene on their show turns steamy, the two main characters wrapped up in each other during a passion filled tryst. One goes flying in an arc over head.

“Yes,” Jet emphasizes with slow, infinite patience. “that is why I asked what it is you see in him.”

Benzaiten hums, “He’s like…”

Juno, who turned away from the screen and began fiddling with his comms as soon as it became clear the scene would not edit in a vague, dreamlike way or fade to black, snorts. “Here we go,” he mutters.

“He’s like a sexier _Damascus_ ,” Benzaiten names a legendary hero who has been the subject of over 30 years of games, movies, books and streams. The hero’s looks and personality have changed little since his first introduction and he has been named one of the most lusted after figures in media.

Jet can see some small similarities between Damascus and the character on screen. He begins to hum his assent just as Juno scoffs.

“How?” He demands.

“Juno,” Benzaiten sighs.

“You say that _every time_ , and you have never _once_ told me how that could be possible.”

“I’m not having this fight with you again,” Benzaiten sings, still stubbornly looking at the screen and not his brother. Jet feels as though he has inadvertantly stumbled into a long running feud. “It’s a fantasy.”

“There is a ceiling to fantasy,” Juno says, with heavy irony.

“Fantasy is, literally, anything you can imagine!”

“Don’t make me get the book.”

“I’ve read the book, you’ve made me read the book!”

“I’m getting the book.” Juno pushes himself off the couch and stomps over to the towering bookshelf where he jumps to reach a large tome on one of the upper shelves. When he opens it, he does not need to turn any pages, suggesting that this book naturally fell open to the correct page, perhaps due to the frequency of this argument. “ _’eventually without enough support, there comes a time where the audience can no longer suspend their disbelief.’_ ” He quotes triumphantly.

“You’re saying to imagine that anyone can be sexier than Damascus breaks the immersion of reality? Come on!”

On the screen, the characters have fixed their clothing, the love scene finished the character that Benzaiten has proclaimed to remind him of Damascus has stopped his partner on the way out of the unused storage room they illicitly met in. He declares his love for his partner, demanding more than the small moments they steal together.

_“You are the first thing I think of when I when wake up, and the last thing I think of before bed. I want you with me, always. I miss you, when you aren’t near and I am thinking of you constantly. ‘What will he think of me, how will this affect him?’ I love you. Be with me, please.”_

_“You have a wife.” His partner chides, soft and heavy with remorse._

_“We didn’t choose each other. I choose you. Ask me a million times and I will choose you everytime.”_

Juno sighs, the large book in his hands, forgotten.

Benzaiten wiggles his toes under Jet’s thigh. Only half to get his attention, Jet thinks, because Benzaiten’s toes are freezing. “Now _that_ I don’t understand,” he whispers.

Jet nods gravely.

They agree on this, at least.


	12. Cliffhanger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back soon 💋

No one is happy about sending Juno for supplies alone.

But the fact of the matter is, they are running low and while typically, Nureyev would be the best choice for a solo run, Vespa would not allow it. Vespa herself cannot go, Buddy is too recognizable, as are Jet and Rita….

Well. Safe to say that as recognizable as Juno is - he is the safest bet.

He is also excited about this trip.

Too much time cooped up on a small ship with the same 5 people for company has been stifling to him after living in the swarm and changing sea of people that Hyperion is.

“- it’s just a milk run," Juno rolls his eye as Jet does his third spot inspection of the Ruby.

“We are not sending you for milk.” Jet lists a small scuff on a notepad he will most likely be comparing the Ruby's condition to when Juno comes back. It's completely unnecessary and a little insulting, which is likely why Jet is making such a production of it in the first place.

Nureyev cannot say he will ever understand Jet's sense of humor.

Juno squints comically at the detailed list Buddy had provided. It’s seperated into sections, itemized by numbers and bullet points depending on the section, and in her own words: 'idiot proof.'

“Yeah, but I thought I’d go for a drive, stretch my legs a little you know, do some sightseeing, get some souvineers…”

“You are not funny.”

Juno rolls his eye. “Re-lax, big guy. Its just groceries!”

Finally, the Ruby7 is deemed ready and the rest of their family gather to see Juno off.

He trades barbs with Vespa, waves off Buddy’s insistance on quizzing him on the local systems trade culture and distracts Rita from her handwringing by casually wondering what kind of new and interesting snack food he might find.

When he comes to Nureyev he’s bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet like a boxer warming up before a fight.

“Be careful, dear,” Nureyev can’t help but say it, though he manages to make it light and prefuntory.

Juno scoffs, grinning. “What, you’re not worried about me, too. Are you?”

He’s not. “Of course not, love.”

Worry is too small of an emotion for what Nureyev feels with Juno standing stark against the cold grey of the cargo bay doors.

Nureyev is terrified.

“How about a kiss for good luck?” Juno smirks.

Nureyev wavers, torn between the fizzing bubbles of joy that appear whenever Juno is close to him and the creeping fear birthed from half a dozen ‘what if’s.’ “You don’t need it, dear.”

Juno leans up and kisses him anyway. Loving and lingering. The phantom feel of his lips pressing against Nureyev’s own remaining even as he pulls away. “Damn right I don’t. Be back soon!”

.

The clock passes an hour and Juno should have been back by now.

.

.

Two hours. He should have been back by now.

.

.

.

.

Four hours later, the Ruby7 limps back to the cargo bay doors, smoking, listing to one side and empty.


End file.
